The Holmes Sister
by Don'tBelieveInFear
Summary: Rhea didn't want revenge...she wanted freedom. After leaving her Swiss boarding school she goes to London befriending John Watson. But can she really be free with two genius overprotective brothers? Well apparently not...


Rhea smiled at the geeky boy next to her, he was French or was it Italian? His hands typed fast over the keyboard and she didn't understand what he was doing but hopefully it was right, she had one chance to leave. The final things were typed and suddenly an uncertainty set in, as if her actions had just come to life. Next she had him send a message to a group in England 'GO' was all put. That was when she grabbed my suitcase, kissed the French boy with a pleased smirked and all but ran down towards the taxi idling on the curb.

"The airfield please."

Sherlock knew who was coming up the stairs before they had even knocked on the door, how could he not? Even without being who he was those heavy demanding tones were engraved into his spectacular brain. The person didn't knock, they were probably paying his and John's rent anyway.

"She's gone. my surveillance is down and the Swedish government refuse to work with me after...well." The statement caught Sherlock's attention, but he tried to act rather nonchalant about it.

"So the bird flew the coddling nest. Whatever shall we do Mycroft?" He said sarcastically, still not looking at his brother.

He heard him take a warning step forward "This is your sister Sherlock, our sixteen year old sister. Our weakness!" He pressed, how awful it must be for him unable to spy on anyone, what with his camera's mysteriously offline.

"You must not remember but she has her own skills. She's young, pretty, manipulative, a great liar and knows everything about everyone. Surely even without our uniqueness she will last until the electricity is back on and you've destroyed the hack."

Mycroft looked more like Sherlock than ever before, his face helpless as Sherlock watched him from the candle light.

"I will find Rhea with or without your adolescent help." The slammed shut, the flat vibrating loudly.

That was when Sherlock went to work, trying to find out the most likely place she would go to. She had been in a heavily guarded school in Switzerland, not much privacy thanks to Mycroft, general popularity, better socially than her brothers, one close friend, a French boy. She wouldn't know where to go, since she had been five she had been in boarding school other than that she lived with their parents, maybe Mycroft's place a couple of times.

"Sherlock?" John came in, back from work.

"Bye John." Sherlock jumped up running out the flat, a potential location on his mind.

John shook his head, too weary to even think about running after him. Besides, it didn't look like he wanted to be followed much. He sat in his chair and pulled out a newspaper, looking for anything he and Sherlock could look into, his blog was updated for the day. Slowly he dozed off into a light slumber.

Then all the lights came on and John woke startled.

"Good afternoon Dr Watson." A female voice said from the chair in front of him.

She was small with shoulder length brown hair and high cheekbones, she was dressed in a floral playsuit and tights, designer as far as John could tell. Her face feigned innocence but he couldn't understand why a young girl like her would break into his and Sherlock's flat. Not that he was particularly shocked.

"I'm sorry but who are you?"

"Rhea Persephone Holmes, it's just Rhea though. "

"I'm sorry, why are you here?"

"I'm Sherlock's sister, I guess he didn't mention me, he has a habit of doing that. The electricity is back on, so are most of Mycroft's cameras apart from in the flat. I cut them off but it won't be long until he realises."

"Sherlock isn't here."

"Well I know that," she snapped irritably "It's you I need. You can start by making me a coffee, I haven't slept in over 24 hours and I need a mobile that's not being tracked by Mycroft."

She ordered and for some reason he listened, she was the sort of girl who demanded attention and compliance. However she didn't appear to posses the Holmes brothers skills, she seemed almost normal if it was possible. She stole his newspaper, heading straight to the end of it and began furiously scanning the page for some something.

John brought her back a mug of heavily caffeinated coffee which she finished almost immediately. Then John decided it was time to ask questions.

"Why are you here?" Her head snapped up to meet his eyes and then her gaze softened.

"Since I was five years old I have been moved from school to school, country to country because of my foolish brothers mistakes. Every enemy of theirs is in turn an enemy of mine. I want chance at a life, so that is what I will get."

"You want revenge." John stated simply, however slowly he made his way over to the land-line, intending on calling Sherlock or his brother, but then he stopped.

"I suppose if I get revenge along the way it wouldn't be a bad thing, but it is not my goal to inflict anything upon my brothers. I had hoped you would regard me higher than that." She laughed slightly then became engrossed in her phone for a few minutes. "Come on, I have someone to meet."

She picked up a black flared pea coat John never saw her take off and began buttoning the two rows of four silver buttons in the middle. She certainly dressed better than Sherlock, he noticed she wore heels, hopefully that meant they would be no running.

"Surely you don't mean that Dr Watson."

"It's John and did I say that aloud?" He was almost certain he hadn't said anything.

She must be able to dedu-

"I maybe a Holmes but don't presume I am like my brothers, I am not in-human like them."

She still looked like Sherlock and was definitely cleverer than the average teenager.

They exited the flat and thanks to Rhea's charm quickly hailed a cab, John will need to ask her how she does that so easily. He and Sherlock can sometimes stand for twenty minutes trying to get a ride, it was why Sherlock wanted a car.

"Scotland Yard please." Wait? "Oh Dr Watson, don't mention who I am to anybody."

Why was he helping her? She was obviously going to try and cause trouble but he found himself drawn to her. Maybe she was using him, it was a possibility but even if she was. What could a sixteen year old possibly do?

He would regret that statement in the future, it quite possibly cursed him.

They entered the building which Rhea seemed disturbingly familiar with and also had far to many fake ID's for. Her face was a pure picture of a child on Christmas day, a wide excited smile over her face. Then she stopped walking in front of a dead end and on each side was a locked door, two choices.

"I thought you had to meet someone?" John asked, not impressed they had broke into Scotland Yard and got lost. Why hadn't they even been caught yet?

"Which way? Right? left?" John looked at her with a disbelieving expression on his face.

"I'm sorry, this is wrong. Do you know how much trouble we could be in if we got caught right now, you're worse than Sherlock!" Suddenly her smile fell.

"Hardly." With a heavy sigh she turned right and to an office door with the name 'Philip Anderson' on a metal plate.

She entered without knocking, an almost smug smile across her otherwise pretty 'sherlocky' face. Inside Anderson sat on his chair, staring intently at his computer. Most of the room was clear apart from a thick package like envelope on his desk.

"Mr Anderson!" He looked up and smiled, he actually smiled.

What he did next sent John spluttering for words, he hugged her! Anderson was smiling and hugging!

"Err Rhea...what would..." She held her finger to her lips silencing him.

"Now Dr Watson, what did I say?" She scolded then turned back to one of Sherlock's haters. I'm sure he would love it if he found out his own sister was friends with Anderson.

Then a new thought crossed his mind, what if she worked for Moriarty and wasn't actually Sherlock's sister. He had never mentioned her, but then again he never mentioned Mycroft.

He watched her study the brown package then with a knife (and it wasn't a butter knife) which she drew from her pocket she sliced open the top of the letter. Her face was a picture of concentration, it was the exact same face as Sherlock had when he was thinking hard.

"Good Mr Anderson, I may require your services again. Let's go Dr Watson I'm not finished here."

"It's just John."

"Whatever Dr Watson."


End file.
